


Do you know what that means?

by WaywardLiliana



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Coda, Dean is Bad at Feelings, Dean's Top 13 Zepp Traxx Mixtape, Grieving Dean, Grieving Sam Winchester, M/M, Post-Episode: s13e01 Lost and Found, Sam Knows, Season/Series 12 Spoilers, Season/Series 13 Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 17:36:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12392850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WaywardLiliana/pseuds/WaywardLiliana
Summary: Mixtape-related angst after the boys and Jack leave North Cove.





	Do you know what that means?

Dean had insisted on driving the Impala back to the bunker alone. Sam protested until Dean had threatened to punch him “right in his concerned puppy dog face”, and at that point Sam, weary from grief himself, had decided the last thing they all needed was a Winchester fist fight. Dean had disappeared in a cloud of dust, the roar of Baby’s engine fading until eventually the remote beach was silent again, apart from the crackling of the funeral pyre’s dying embers. Sam wasn’t sure why Dean had also insisted on bringing Cas’s truck back to the bunker instead of just abandoning it, but he had decided it wasn’t worth the potential broken nose to ask.

Sam turned reluctantly towards Cas’s beat-up truck, while at his side, Jack regarded the heap of junk with mild curiosity and just a hint of wariness. They had retrieved the truck’s keys from Cas’s pocket before Dean had wrapped up his body and carried it out of the house alone. Sam sighed heavily, his enormous shoulders hunched, and gestured vaguely at the truck’s passenger side door.

“Come on. We’ve got a long drive ahead of us and who knows how many times this thing is gonna break down on the way.”

“This was his…vehicle?” Often when he spoke, Jack seemed to be trying the words out, as though he were testing the feeling of them on his tongue. He ran a finger over the truck’s rusted hood.

Sam got into the driver’s seat, immediately needing to pull his knees up nearly to his chest to fit behind the steering wheel. Jack climbed in beside him, examining the truck’s interior as a small smile pulled at his lips.

Sam turned the key in the ignition, sending out a silent prayer. “Yep. Not really sure why, but Cas was pretty attached to it.” The truck’s engine rumbled to life, Sam thanked Chuck just in case he was listening, and they started down the long road back to Kansas.

****

Somewhere in Idaho, Jack got bored with staring out the window and started fiddling with things inside the truck’s cab. Sam had been temporarily worried that the kid’s powers might mess with the truck’s electrics, but so far, the drive had been uneventful. Jack figured out how to use the radio pretty quickly, but apparently he was unimpressed with the choices available in rural Idaho. Sam had stopped soon after they left Washington state to stock up on sugary drinks and snacks, after Jack had informed him of his newfound love for nougat. But the drive would take over 24 hours, and apparently not even a nephilim could eat candy for that long.

Eventually Jack noticed the glove compartment and popped it open. Sam took his eyes off the empty road long enough to see loose bits of paper fall out, along with a burner phone Dean had given Cas when he went off to search for Kelly. But Jack picked up something else from where it had landed on the truck’s worn floor and held it gingerly between his thumb and forefinger.

“What’s this?” Jack held it out to Sam, who recognized the black rectangular object, even though he only ever saw them in his brother’s car these days.

“It’s a cassette tape. It used to be how people listened to music. Before CDs, before mp3s. Lemme see that.”

Jack carefully handed the tape over to Sam, who took advantage of the long empty stretch of highway to read the handmade label. Written in Dean’s unmistakable handwriting, it said: “Dean’s top 13 Zepp TRA XX” 

Sam sucked in a breath, fixed his eyes back on the road, and gave the mixtape back to Jack. 

“Dean must’ve given it to him.” Jack’s eyes widened at this revelation, and Sam wondered how much this kid really understood about human interactions. Jack seemed to be waiting for more of an explanation so Sam sighed and continued, “Led Zeppelin is Dean’s favorite band, so he chose his favorite songs and put them on this tape for Cas to listen to. Not that this truck even has a tape deck so Cas probably never did.” For some reason, this caused Sam to choke up a bit and he cleared his throat in an effort to stay calm. Breaking down in front of the nephilim who chose Cas as his father only to discover he was dead didn’t seem like the greatest idea.

“That sounds…difficult?” Jack raised an eyebrow as he looked at Sam, and as Sam caught the expression out of the corner of his eye, he was blindsided by how much it reminded him of Cas. Jack turned back to contemplate the flat landscape rolling past. “Castiel must have been very important to Dean.”

Sam said nothing in response, instead increasing pressure on the gas pedal as he sped towards the bunker and his brother.

****

Sam drove through the night and they finally arrived in Kansas in the middle of the following morning, with the truck having miraculously stayed in one piece. After carefully parking the Ford in the bunker’s massive garage, Sam guided Jack through to the living area, and called out for Dean. He got no answer, only the sound of his voice echoing through the bunker’s empty spaces.

“I’ll get you set up in a room, so you can get some rest,” Sam said as he turned towards Jack. He thought for a moment and then asked, “Do you even need rest?”

Jack shrugged. “I guess I could try and see what happens?”

Sam had considered giving Cas’s room to Jack, thinking maybe the kid would want to feel close to him, not that Cas had kept anything personal there. Not that he even had anything personal to keep. Apart from the mixtape. That made Sam think of Dean, and he instantly rejected the idea. Dean would probably shoot Jack on sight if he found him in Cas’s room. No, better to give him one of the other anonymous guest rooms.

Jack had wanted to explore the bunker a bit, and Sam thought he probably should say no or at least go with him, given all the powerful objects, books, and weapons scattered around, but he was bone tired from the last few days and couldn’t be bothered. Sam headed towards Dean’s room, the mixtape heavy in his shirt pocket, but before he left, he turned to see Jack sitting at the map table, his fingers tracing the continents, suddenly a tiny figure in the immense room.

****

Sam pushed his hair back from his face as he stood outside Dean’s closed bedroom door, wondering what exactly he was going to say to his grief-stricken brother. The mixtape had flipped a switch in Sam, illuminating something that now seemed clear as day, even though he had actually known it for a very long time. This was not going to be an easy conversation, not that talking about feelings with Dean ever was. Sam knocked before he could lose his nerve.

“Dean?” Sam asked hesitantly. He heard a faint grunt through the door and as he turned the doorknob, he hoped it meant Dean wasn’t pointing a gun at the door. Sam stood on the threshold and took in the sight before him. Dean was sitting up on his bed, wearing an old pair of Men of Letters headphones. Then the whiff of stale beer reached Sam, and he noticed the not insubstantial pile of empty beer bottles on the floor next to the bed. Dean’s face was pale and bathed in shadows, the soft light from his bedside lamp highlighting the angles of his jaw and cheekbones. Sam didn’t think he had ever seen his brother look so lost.

Dean removed the headphones and met Sam’s eyes with suspicion. 

“What do you want, Sammy?” His voice was hoarse, and Sam could tell he had been crying.

“Thought you might want this back.” Sam pulled the mixtape slowly out of his pocket, and tossed it onto the bed. “Jack found it in the truck’s glove compartment.”

Dean eyed the tape but didn’t move to pick it up. “Thanks Sammy.”

Sam knew this was Dean’s way of dismissing him and remained in the doorway.

“Are we gonna talk about our feelings now? You shoulda brought the whiskey, Sam. Oh and maybe a carton of ice cream with two spoons.”

Sam ignored that and walked carefully over to sit down in the desk chair. He leaned forward, clasped his hands in front of him, and adopted his best “interviewing the victim’s family” expression.

“Dean, when did you give it to him? You know Cas’s truck doesn’t even have a tape deck, right?”

Dean rolled his eyes. “Yeah Sammy, I know. I was gonna get him one of those adapter thingies. Not that it matters now.”

“Dean, of course it matters. Did he ever listen to the tape?”

A pained expression flashed across Dean’s face as he remembered. “I gave it to him after Ramiel. After the barn. I showed him how to use the Impala’s tape deck and we listened to it together. Dumbass couldn’t figure out how to make the damned thing work. Kept putting it in the wrong way.” Dean smiled fondly at the memory.

Sam thought for a moment. After the barn. He had assumed they would never talk about what happened in the barn, what Cas had said. But now the angel was gone, and there was no point in pretending anymore. He kept going.

“So what Cas said…when he was dying…”

“Damnit Sam, I don’t wanna talk about it. Just let me get drunk in peace.”

“Dean, he told you he loved you. All of us. And you - we - didn’t say it back. And now he’s gone.”

“Sammy, I swear, if you don’t shut the fuck up, I’m gonna punch you in the face.” Dean rose from the bed unsteadily, trying and failing to look menacing as he swayed on his feet.

Sam held out his hands, trying to placate his brother. He knew he had to get this out, had to try to get Dean to admit the truth. Or they might never recover from this.

“Dean, you made a mixtape for Cas after he told you he loved you. A mixtape of your favorite songs from your favorite band.” Sam felt his anger growing, and he struggled to stay calm. This wasn’t Dean’s fault, he tried to remind himself.

“A mixtape, Dean. Do you know what that means? Have you ever seen a movie or a TV show where a character gives another character a mixtape? Is that what you meant? Shit, Dean, did Cas know what it meant???” Sam was nearly shouting now, his cool but sympathetic façade having collapsed, and Dean’s expression changed from anger to surprise. He sat heavily back down on the bed, his head in his hands.

“Yeah, Sammy. I knew. I knew it was the only way I could say it back.” Dean looked utterly defeated, and Sam’s anger faded as he rushed to his brother’s side. He put one of his long arms around Dean’s shoulders and held him tightly. Dean spoke, the sound muffled by his hands covering his face. “Of course he didn’t know what it meant. That winged idiot never knew. We listened to the songs and I tried to explain what they meant to me. But I shoulda told him what he meant to me instead.” The last sentence nearly got lost in a sob but Sam heard it. Sam let Dean collapse into his arms and weep for his lost angel.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first published fic so please be kind. If you know me on Twitter, you know I am obsessed with the mixtape. I wanted to explore how Sam might react to finding it and how he would use it to get Dean to admit his feelings. Please forgive any typos/errors, I wanted to get it up quickly before 13x02. I'd really love to hear what you thought - I hope you liked it!


End file.
